


Like violence, you have me, forever and after.

by scottielang



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Boys Kissing, Face Punching, Kissing, M/M, Mild Blood, Romantic Face Punching, Violence, uummmm idk what else to tag this as lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22618099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottielang/pseuds/scottielang
Summary: Will's a little worked up. Also this is super short sorry lol.
Relationships: Lance Corporal Schofield/Lance Corporal Blake, Tom Blake & William Schofield, Tom Blake/William Schofield
Kudos: 61





	Like violence, you have me, forever and after.

"Seriously, Tom. Fuck off" Schofield snapped, his words fierce and full of venom

Blake wasn't having any of it. In fact, the more annoyed Schofield got, the more it sparred Blake on, just to see exactly how far he could push him.  
Schofield was walking quickly, almost marching away, but Blake kept up, though he had to skip to keep up with Schofields' steps. Neither boy could remember how this particular argument started, but it was almost definitely over something small and pointless, with no need for them to get this wound up over it.

"You fuck off! So bloody fucking moody all the time!" Blake retorted.

"I'm moody because of you nagging in my ear fucking non stop!"

Any ordinary person would leave Schofield alone to calm down, to collect his thoughts. But not Blake, no. He didn't know exactly what he wanted, but he wanted to keep going. To see what would happen once he was pushed over the edge.

"You need to calm down, mate. You're too fucking tense, have a fucking wank or something."

Now, he's not sure why, but this comment was the one that made him snap. Schofield stopped in his tracks, turned on his heels, and punched Blake. Right in the face. He pulled his fist back, still balled and speckled with dark red, and let it drop to his side. Blake was too shocked to reply. He wasn't hurt, just shocked. Sure, he expected him to lash out, maybe even cry, but not hit him. His shaking hand made its way up to his face, tentatively dabbing his nose, and as he thought, warm thick blood was slowly dripping our of both his nostrils, down his lips, and dripping from his chin onto his boots. Schofield stood there, calmly. Part of him wanted to apologise, to rush over and hold his head back, to help him. The other half, however, felt proud, almost accomplished, and thought Blake had gotten what he deserved, what he was begging for. 

Blake broke their silence.

"You feel better now, right? It feels good, doesn't it?" He spat out a mixture of blood and spit onto the ground. He took a step forward. Schofield thought he was about to get punched back, rightfully deserved. But he stood his ground.

"Yes. I do feel better, actually."

"Good. Good."

"Tom, I-" He began his apology, but was cut off by a pair of lips crashing against his own. Blood covered lips, but lips nonetheless. As Blake's' tongue made its way into Schofield's mouth, he could taste the all too familiar metallic flavour of blood that had been smeared across Blake's teeth. Blake pulled back, leaving Schofields lips painted with a watercolour of spit and blood as he played with the collar of Schofields shirt.

"Y'know, Will... There are more ways to take out your anger other than violence..."


End file.
